The Elves And The Schuemaker
by strawberrymacchiato
Summary: AU. Ever since a huge blizzard damaged his shop, poor Mr. Schuemann is struggling to make ends meet. So Santa sends him his two favourite elves to help him get back on track. But what Santa didn't realise, was that one elf would be leaving him for good this Christmas. (Faberry Week Day 7 Prompt fill-'Snowed In')
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **And a merry merry Christmas, and a happy new year...let's hope it's a good one, without any fear~StrawberryM xoxo

* * *

Mr. Schuemann, although everybody just calls him Schue, is a good man. He works hard all day, and he hardly gets a chance to enjoy a cup of his favourite tea at night. Ever since Mrs. Schuemann passed away, he's resigned himself to bread and tomato soup-that's the only meal he knows how to make. Sometimes, his customers take pity on him, and give him a plate of their steak and kidney pie, or if he's lucky-meat and potatoes. Mr. Schuemann works at a shoe-shop, of course. And he's the best shoe maker in all of Lima. But lately this horrible blizzard had come and nearly destroyed his shop, and a lot of his best designs with it. As if that wasn't enough, so many people had started moving away in recent years to try their luck out in New York. Business had just plummetted. He doesn't want to admit it, but it has. Mr. Schuemann just watched all those dear souls go, one by one, smiling sadly to himself. What he finds the most saddening, however, is how he can still remember the face of each and every student from William McKinley, the local high school. He remembers them because, nearly all of them came to his shop, wide-eyed and innocent youngsters, ushered in by their parents to get some brand new shoes so they'd look smart on their first day of school. Mr. Schuemann sighs and wipes his shop windows clean for the third time, knowing there's just no point in reminiscing about all that now. So instead, he plonks himself down on his work bench, and begins cutting the leather for a new shoe design. He hasn't had a single customer in weeks, but who knows. Christmas is coming up, and there's a small part of him that still hopes someone will walk through that door, just so he can hear the bell ring.

* * *

Far, far away in the north pole, where the weather is so cold it makes your nose turn pink, a little elf watched Mr. Schuemann through a large snowglobe. It's kind of a secret way to spy on the humans, to make sure they're being nice throughout the year. That's how Santa knows who to give Christmas Presents to, you see. But this time, when dear little Rachel-elf pulled her eyes away from the globe, she felt a strange sadness that she'd never felt before-and it completely overwhelmed her. Instead of deciding whether or not this man, Mr. Schuemann, deserved a present or not, she found herself wondering whether she could help him. Whether perhaps, she _herself_ could sort of be an early Christmas Present to cheer him up a little.

She knew that if she did go, she'd miss the north pole terribly. It had been her home ever since she was a baby elf, and all her friends like Santana-elf and Brittany-elf worked here. But it wouldn't be forever, she told herself. She'd just spend a couple of weeks or so, and be back just in time for Christmas.

Yes, the plan was fantastic! Beaming, she marched right up to Santa Claus to ask for his permission to leave.

"Santa?"

She squeaked, in her tiny little voice. Santa looked down at her kindly, and smiled.

"Yes Rachel-elf, what is it? You seem troubled."

"Well Santa," She began, "I have come to request your permission to depart from the north pole."

Santa frowned, stroking his wizened beard lightly.

"Rachel-elf. You're one of my most skilled workers, and I have the utmost faith in you. But on this occasion, I must ask you why you wish to leave at such a special time of the year. We need you here Rachel-elf.''

He pleaded, and looked deep into her eyes. But Rachel-elf just smiled.

''I know, Santa. But this Christmas, somebody else needs me more.''

Santa pursed his lips, deep in thought, and then he was nodding.

''I trust you Rachel-elf, but the human world is dangerous. Which is why I'm going to ask Santana-elf to go with you.''

"No! Am I being punished again?"

Came a muffled voice from underneath a red blanket. Rachel-elf rushed towards it and yanked it upward.

"Please? I promise we'll be home for Christmas."

"That's what Jonathon Taylor Thomas said."

"This'll be different! I swear!"

"Yeah yeah, just get the kits ready."

Santa smiled at them kindly, remembering just why these two were his favourite elves of all.

* * *

Rachel-elf had never felt so exhilarated in her entire life. Only a select few elves had ever been granted permission to go the the human world before, and now, she was one of them.

"Santana!" She squealed excitedly, "Isn't this wonderful? We're gonna see actual people! Humans!"

Santana-elf rolled her eyes.

"Big whoop."

"Aww, come on! Look, there are some children over there building a snowman!"

Santana-elf's eyes widened and she quickly steered the snowflake they were riding on in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing? We were almost-"

"Seen? Have you forgotten what Santa said already? We're not supposed to be seen!"

Rachel-elf sighed, but Santana-elf was right. Even though she wished she wasn't.

The snowflake kept hurtling through the misty air, and soon enough it handed on a thick white roof. It made the faintest of imprints as it landed.

They were ever so quiet as they plodded through the snow, and carefully climbed the chimney using their little pick-axes. Elves have to be quiet, you see, in case a shrewd bird or an opportunistic cat might be on the prowl, watching them. If Rachel-elf and Santana-elf had used the more conventional routes of entering the house-such as via the cracks in the window sill or under the door, they would surely be spotted by a predator. Luckily they had both studied all of this in their Elfology 101 class.

"Parachute."

Santana-elf ordered, and Rachel-elf fastened the straps around her waist.

"If I die I'm coming back for you."

Rachel-elf laughed nervously and fastened her own straps. Santana-elf sure was a good actress sometimes.

She nodded resolutely, and a second later she had jumped, plummeting down the chimney shaft. Rachel-elf held her breath until the parachute finally opened and Santana-elf was floating down safely towards the logs below.

She couldn't believe it. They were about to enter the house of a human! What would it be like seeing the man in person? From all the stories she'd read about people, she imagined him to be about as big as a gorilla, but not as hairy. That was right, wasn't it?

"Coast's clear!"

A voice echoed from below.

Rachel-elf shook her head. This was no time for getting distracted. So she braced herself and took the plunge, but her parachute didn't open properly and she ended up landing in a large pile of soot.

Santana-elf roared with laughter and pulled out her miniature camera.

"This is so going on elfbook."

"Don't you dare!"

_Click._

"Santana, you come back here! Santana!"

And then Santana-elf was giggling like mad, and scampering away like a little mouse.

* * *

It was so cold it hurt her bones.

She pulled down her beanie, trying to shield her face from the icy breeze. Her mother had warned her not to go out today, but someone needed to buy bread. Her mother was sick in bed, and if Quinn didn't go out in the blizzard all her siblings would go hungry. She had barely made it to the next village, and now as she clung to the last warmth of the freshly baked loaf, she knew she wouldn't be able to make it back. Her legs, aching from ploughing through the thick snow, wobbled and finally gave way. It felt so nice, lying here like this. All the pretty snowflakes kept swaying swirling around in the sky above her. At one point, she even thought she saw two microscopic little people on a particularly golden snowflake, but she laughed to herself. Elves weren't real. Well, she used to think they were when she was little, but she wasn't a kid anymore. She breathed in the cool air. Everything felt so peaceful here. So right. Her eyelids fluttered shut and for a moment, and she wished that she could go back to those days. Then everything went black.

* * *

"...hear me? If you can squeeze my hand, ok?"

Quinn's vision was groggy. She could see someone by her side, holding her hand. Where was she?

"Please God, let her be alright."

The voice was deep and soothing. The kind that could lullaby you to sleep. But Quinn knew she had to stay awake now. She willed herself to do as the man said, and his eyes widened immediately.

"You're alive! Thank the heavens!"

Quinn blinked a few times, and slowly but surely, the man came into focus.

"Where am I?"

"Don't worry, you're safe dear. My name's Schuemann-but you can call me Schue."

Quinn managed to lift her body up with great difficulty, and nodded.

"How did I get here?"

"I found you collapsed outside my shop-you had begun to freeze and-"

For a moment, Mr. Schuemann seemed distracted by something behind her. But then his his eyes were shut tightly and he was shaking his head.

"You're a McKinley student."

He said, changing the topic. A sad smile bloomed on his face.

"How'd you know?"

"Those shoes you're wearing-I made them."

Suddenly there was a loud meow coming from behind them, and the sounds of something running rapidly. Mr. Schuemann turned his head.

"There she goes again. I swear that cat is getting too old. Chases after things that aren't even there, you know?"

He winked.

"By the way, I didn't get your name."

Quinn knew it wasn't normally safe to converse with strangers, but this man-Mr. Schuemann seemed to be kind, and he claimed to be responsible for making the shoes on her feet.

"I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

"Well then Miss Fabray," He said, warmly, "How about I make us both a hot chocolate and you join me in my studio? There are some shoe designs I could use your opinion on."

She nodded, and got up to follow him. But at the last second she turned around and saw what Mr. Schuemann had been looking at before. It was a photo of a beautiful young woman, smiling. It seemed to be from at least a few years back. Quinn remembered how sad Mr. Schuemann had seemed, and wondered where that woman was today as she exited the room.

* * *

"You almost got us killed!"

"I almost got us killed? Well excuse me, Santana, but I do believe that you were the one who was thundering away after taking a photo of me against my will!"

Santana-elf scoffed.

"And your whining did absolutely nothing to wake up that big-ass cat?"

"I was not whining!"

Santana-elf suddenly put her palm over Rachel's mouth and became extremely still.

"I think I heard something."

"Mhm ghm! Mhm mh gmhhm!"

"Shh!"

She poked her little head out from behind the curtain, and had to stagger backwards from her surprise.

There were two giants just a few metres away. One of them was holding some suede in his hands, and the other one was listening and nodding.

"Wow."

Santana-elf said in awe, her palm falling away from Rachel-elf's mouth.

"Like I said," Rachel-elf continued angrily, "I was not-"

Rachel-elf's jaw dropped to the floor. Standing there next to Mr. Schuemann, was the most beautiful girl Rachel-elf had ever seen. Her golden hair spilled around her shoulders like silk. Her frame was lithe and delicate, and her voice felt like gentle ocean waves caressing her body.

Was it chance? Was it a miracle? Was it destiny?

Rachel-elf couldn't be sure.

She rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming. But sure enough, the girl was still there, smiling like an angel.

"That's right, Miss Fabray," Mr. Schuemann said, pointing to the stitching on the suede.

Fabray...what a magnificent name, Rachel-elf thought dreamily.

"That's really impressive. You obviously put a lot of work into all your designs. I'm so sorry your shop was just ruined like this."

She shook her head in disappointment. Mr. Schuemann shrugged, his lips pursed.

"I'm grateful I still have a place to live, Miss Fabray. And deep down? I don't wish for anything more. But," He said, a smile returning to his face, "No one's walked into my shop for nearly a month. It means a lot to have you here."

Quinn's lips curved upward.

"Glad to be here, Sir."

"Just call me Schue-everybody else does. Oh my!" He said, eyes landing on the old grandfather clock in his studio, "Look at the time! You better get going soon. Are you feeling alright to go?""

"Thanks to you I am, sir. And thank you for saving me today, I owe you."

She headed over to the front door, and was about to turn the knob, but turned back once more.

"Mr. Schuemann? Are you opened tomorrow, by any chance?"

He nodded, and Quinn smiled briefly before she made her way out into the cold.

Rachel-elf hadn't realised it, but she hadn't looked away from the girl for a single second.

She was mesmerised by her voice, her soft, rosy cheeks, and her beautiful hazel eyes.

And that was the precise moment she knew what she wanted this Christmas.

She knew it would be impossible. That the kind of gift she wanted wasn't the kind of thing people normally got. In fact, the kind of wish she wanted was the kind Santa Claus would probably never allow.

But Rachel-elf had always been a dreamer. She couldn't help herself.

So she decided that she'd make Miss Fabray the most wonderful pair of shoes in the world, and somehow make sure she got them. After she finished helping Mr. Schuemann get his business back on track, of course.

She couldn't stop the rush of happiness she felt when she imagined Miss Fabray's smile, her loving embrace when she thanked her for making the lightest, most comfortable, and elaborately designed pair of shoes ever, and the sparkle in her beautiful eyes.

What Rachel-elf wanted this Christmas, was to be human.


	2. Chapter 2

Santa Claus knows what each and every elf wants for their Christmas Present. And as you might already know, elves are such tiny creatures that just like fairies, they're only capable of feeling one emotion at a time. Naturally their minds work in much the same way-so as soon as Rachel-elf thought of what she wanted for Christmas, it appeared on Santa's list in big black letters.

His eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. No elf had ever before harboured the desire to become human, and thereby leave The North Pole behind. A sad expression covered his features, because he couldn't understand why one of his favourite elves would want to leave him.

So he decided to ask Mrs. Claus for some advice.

"Dear, may I ask you something?"

She paused her knitting and nodded.

"If someone you loved very much suddenly wanted to leave you, would you let them go?"

Mrs. Claus looked at him strangely, but her reply was calm.

"Yes."

Santa stood up.

"You would? Not even without a fight?"

She looked back down, and began fixing the corner of the hat she was working on again.

"If that somebody loved you too, don't you think they'd come back to you?"

Santa slumped down in his chair, reaching for his cup of cocoa.

"I suppose. But what if they don't want to come back?"

Mrs. Claus smiled.

"They will. All you have to do is have faith."

* * *

"Ow!"

Santana-elf screamed, and nursed her throbbing finger. Rachel-elf shook her head.

"You're rushing, Santana. If you keep doing it like that of course you'll prick yourself."

She said, carefully creating a tiny series of perfect cross-stitches on the shoe she was operating on, and silently bemoaning the fact that it was made of leather.

"Rushing smushing. I'm hungry after all that shovelling outside and this dude only has tomato soup. _Yuck._"

Her tongue stuck out and she made a gagging sound.

"Santana! That's not polite!"

"Do you think the cat food tastes good? I'm kinda desperate."

She said, eyes madly searching around the room. Rachel-elf sighed and pulled out one of the two vegan biscuit crumbles she had saved for emergencies. It seemed like this was a good time as any to use it, so she handed it over. Santana-elf's eyes lit up.

"Yippee!"

She squealed, gobbling it down in one gulp.

"Can I've some more, sir?"

Rachel-elf pouted furiously.

"That was my...my last emergency ration!"

"I'm dying-oh Rachel, I can see the light!"

Rachel-elf tried to ignore it when Santana-elf fell backward dramatically and kept muttering things about starvation.

"...and then, third world hunger would virtually disappear!"

Like I said, she tried.

* * *

Mr. Schuemann yawned as he tucked in the quilt covers and slipped into his work shoes. The hairs on his arms stood, his body shivering from the cold as he went over to the photo frame to do what he did every morning.

"I love you, Emma. I always have and I always will."

He said, and kissed the picture of the smiling woman. She felt as cold as she did that day when...

It wasn't fair that she had been taken away from him. Why did bad things happen to good people?

Mr. Schuemann shook his head and started moving towards his workbench. At least he still had his shop to keep him productive over the years. Because if it wasn't for that he'd-

He stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape. Not quite believing what he saw, he pinched himself and winced instantly. This was real, alright.

There on his workbench were two pairs of the most perfectly constructed shoes he'd ever seen.

The heel was the perfect height, the vamp the perfect angle, and the leather lining practically shone. Mr. Schuemann ran his finger along the collar, nodding appreciatively until he was startled by the bell of his shop ringing.

"Good morning, sir!"

Said the familiar voice as a snow covered, blonde haired girl entered the room.

"Miss Fabray!"

He gushed in astonishment. He couldn't believe it, but she'd kept her word.

"I could see your shop from a mile away this morning, sir. It looks like someone's cleaned the-wow! Those shoes-did you make those last night, Mr. Schuemann?"

Her eyes centred in on the shoe he was holding, and he shook his head, still smiling.

"Well, you'd never believe it Miss Fabray, but I woke up and they were just here."

Quinn gasped, taking off her beanie and wiping away the globs of snow.

''It's as if someone came into my studio, took out all the materials I had and just made them.''

Quinn walked over and picked up a shoe, examining it carefully.

''These stitches...'' She said, curiosity flooding her voice, ''They're so small it looks as if-'' And her voice trailed off.

''Sorry Mr. Schuemann, that's ridiculous.''

''What's ridiculous?''

He pressed, intrigued by whatever she was about to say.

''Um...these stitches...it looks like they were done by someone with very, _very _small hands...like...like um...''

''An elf?''

Mr. Schuemann supplied, internally nodding at her logic.

''Not that I believe in elves or anything,'' She said quickly, ''But how else can you explain this handiwork? It's like magic.''

At that moment, the door bell rang again and a middle aged woman with a large fur coat and a broad smile entered the shop.

"Madam! Good morning! Is there anything I can help you with?"

Mr. Schuemann smiled genuinely. It seemed like there really was someone looking out for him this Christmas. The woman gazed around the shop in fascination, eyes landing on the fine pairs of shoes on the work bench before returning back to Mr. Schuemann.

"Are you the owner of this shop?"

"Why yes, I certainly am. And this here is my assistant, Miss Fabray."

He said with a wink, and nudged Quinn, who rolled her eyes good naturedly.

"Hmm. I see." The woman said, eyes now looking Quinn up and down.

"My _son _Finn's about your age you know," She said with a strange gleam in her eye. "Maybe you could come over for supper one evening? I'm sure he'd love to meet you. But now, shoes! What can you recommend for me?"

The woman clapped her hands eagerly, just masking the loud shuffling noise coming from behind the curtain. Quinn looked to Mr. Schuemann with an uncertain expression on her face.

"Quinn's fairly new here. Can I perhaps interest you in some shoes, Madam?" And he pointed to the pairs in front of him.

She stepped closer, flashing a smile at Quinn as she did so, and lifted up the smaller pair of the two.

"Yes..." She mumbled to herself, "Finn loves Green. I'll take them!"

Mr. Schuemann walked behind the counter and began punching the buttons in his cash register.

"Miss Fabray, could you get me the lace wrapping paper? It's behind that red box."

Quinn nodded and bent down to reach it.

"It's strange, you know, I haven't seen this shop open in so long I assumed it had closed down!"

The woman continued, opening her purse to produce a few paper notes.

"But then when I was doing my Christmas shopping this morning, it was just there, just like-''

''Magic?''

Mr. Schuemann said, as he finished looping the bow around the package and handed it over to the woman. She stared back at him, the gleam in her eye brightening.

''I didn't quite catch your name.''

''Call me Schue.''

''Carole.'' She took the package, and her gaze landed on Quinn for a second before returning to him. ''Thank you, Mr. Schue, I'll make sure to spread the word about your shop. Miss Fabray.''

And she nodded curtly before she exited the shop. Quinn sighed with relief.

''Miss Fabray? I hope you were ok with being my assistant for five minutes?''

He sounded unsure, a faint trace of regret in his voice. So she turned her head up towards Mr. Schuemann and smiled.

''It was my pleasure. I don't know about that customer though, she seemed a bit...enthusiastic.''

Mr. Schuemann laughed and punched her shoulder lightly.

''You have a point. You also have a point about the shoes.''

Quinn looked at him quizzically.

''No human could have done that stitching.''

* * *

''Oho! You like her! You like-'' And Santana-elf grabbed her own cheeks and tilted her head hopelessly, ''Miss _Fabray_!''

''Do not.''

''Do so!'

''I most certainly do _not, _Santana!'' Rachel-elf exclaimed angrily. ''How on earth could I ever possibly develop a crush on a human? Just because she's breathtakingly beautifu-oops.''

''I knew it. I'm psychic!'' Santana-elf said proudly, pumping her fists.

''I think you mean psychotic. A-Anyway, did you see that woman? She was wearing a fur coat! _Fur_! Do you know how many foxes and bears and other poor creatures were killed to make that monstrosity?''

Santana-elf sighed and patted Rachel-elf on the arm, leading her away from the gap in the curtain.

''You're too kind to animals, Rach. Do you actually think a bear would stop and ask, 'Excuse me, Miss, but would it be alright if I ate you?'''

''And _this _is why some people just aren't meant to be animal rights activists.''

She said, removing Santana-elf's arm.

''You mean terrorists.''

''Please be quiet. You lack morals and think it's funny when others fall into piles of soot.''

''Ok then, but don't say I didn't warn you when you're half way down Yogi's throat.''

At that, Rachel-elf stormed off, mumbling something about certain other elves' lack of compassion, which eventually turned into:

''And how dare she try and get her son involved! The nerve of that woman!''

''When are you two getting married again?''

''Shut up!''

Santana-elf snickered loudly, and began to nibble on the remaining biscuit crumble she had knicked from someone without them noticing.


End file.
